Fate Middle Earth
by YunaBlaze
Summary: When Sauron awoke, its evilness spread to every corner of Middle Earth, but unkown to him, his power drew another power as evil as he was, the evil known as the Corrupted Holy Grail. So a new power came into play. What would it bring? Destruction or salvation?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer - I don't own the Fate serie or Lord of the Rings, they all belong respectfully to their original owner.**

* * *

><p><strong>Servant Berserker<strong>

Aragorn was known by many names such as son of Arathorn, Elessar descendant of Isildur and heir to the throne of Gondor, Estel adoptive son of Lord Elrond of Rivendell, ranger of the North under the name of Strider and Chieftains of the Dúnedain. He had always believed that he was not worthy of claiming the throne of Gondor, despite he was the last heir of the long lost bloodline of Isildur and had every right to be the ruler of Gondor. Sometimes, he wished that Elrond, his elven foster father, didn't told him his true identity when he was twenty-year-old.

Still, he continued down the path that his destiny had forged for him and hoped that when the time truly came for him to become the leader of a country he would be ready to accept that mantle handed down to him and protect his people. Now, his mission was to make sure the hobbit, Frodo Baggins, who carried the Ring of Power to arrive safely to Rivendell, along with Frodo's companions: Samwise Gamgee his gardener, Peregrin Took (Pippin in short) and Meriadoc Brandybuck (simply known as Merry).

Aragorn was silently guiding the four hobbits to Rivendall, but it was soon be night and the road would be more traitorous. The only place they could rest was the ruins of the Tower of Amon Sûl, the watch-tower located on the summit of Weathertop hill. Aragorn could hear the silent whispers from the One Ring, taunting him about his linage and the failure of his ancestor, Isildur, and telling him that he could prove to be greater than his pathetic ancestor by taking the ring. The ranger ignored its sweet words and focused on his current task, which was to bring the hobbits to safety.

When they reached the great ruins where many battles were fought long before he or the hobbits were born. Aragorn quickly gave the hobbits some short swords, it might not be enough to defend themselves against a Nazgûl, but it would do for now, at the very least they could fight back against some smaller minions of the dark lord.

Aragorn left the hobbits on their own, trusting that they would be careful not to get unwanted attention from unwelcome witnesses like when Frodo accidentally put the ring on in the Pouncing Pony at Bree. While he patrolled around the forest under Amon Sûl with a fire torch to help him get through the thick fog, he got a nagging feeling that something was not right and the words he heard whispered among some traveler in the Pouncing Pony were not good either.

Many spoke of a malevolent power had awakened and they believed it was not Sauron, but something that was as dark as the Lord of Mordor himself. Of course it was only a small rumour, but he found himself began to worry, for the last time he had stopped in one of elven kingdom, the elves were grimed and they warned him to be more careful. For something of greater evil had descended upon Middle-Earth, but what it was, the immortal beings had not a single clue.

'Ah,' hissed Aragorn as he stared as his right hand which had received a small cut from a nearby sharp branch and fresh blood slowly oozed out of the wound. The ranger quickly whipped away the blood and concentrated on his surrounding.

The forest was too quiet. Neither the crickets, nor the any small scavengers were making any sort of sound. It was like the woods were empty of life.

Then he heard it, a few sharp piercing cries that belonged to only one single corrupted race.

_Nazgûl_. _And_ there's more than one. Aragorn thought as he quickly ran back to the watch-tower, knowing that his charges were in grave danger.

He arrived too late and the Nazgûls were already there. He saw one of the Ring-Wraith plunged his blade on something on the ground, which he could guessed to be Frodo who had wore the ring once more despite his warning. With a fierce battle shout he jumped toward the Ring-Wraith and swept his torch to force the inhuman being to back away before he engaged into a battle of one against five foes.

As a man who was destined to rule a formidable country and had lived for 87 years, he was not someone who could be beaten easily, but against the nine Nazgûls who were fallen kings of old, his capability was literally put to test.

Aragorn was able to burn the robes that held the form of the Ringwraith, but he only succeeded in defeating two of them in this way. When he was about to was about to deal with the third wraith, another wraith came and knocked the torch out of his hand. Without the fire, the ranger knew very well that he had very little chance to save himself or the hobbits.

Though he was in the direst situation, he still fought with great valour and continued to cross sword with his enemies until he was knocked off of his feet when one of the Black Riders had enough of this foolish fight and landed hard of the stone ground.

His grey eyes grew in horror and despair as he watched three set of the same long sword pointed at him. Everything had suddenly slowed down, the hobbits were crying something and the Black Riders were pulling back their sword arm to kill him.

Suddenly Aragorn felt a dull burn on his hand, more precisely the hand that injured just a few minutes ago, and the burning feeling grew stronger, then a bright red light glowed underneath the Ringwraith blinding his sight.

Aragorn brought his hand up to cover eyes when the Nazgûls let a sudden shriek and a loud clash of sword against the ground. When he noticed the red light fading, he put his arm down and looked up in awe and, perhaps, horror.

There standing before Aragorn was a knight in sleek black armour with spikes that covered the person from head to toe, the armour itself gave Aragorn the impression one of the Fell Beast's thick hides. A dark mist kept moving around the dark warrior as if it was alive and was protecting him.

The black knight seemed to be studying him through his helmet and Aragorn locked his eyes onto the red light that was emanating from the visor of the helmet.

The Wraiths were screeching angrily behind the dark knight who paid no mind to them and focused solely on Aragorn and spoke in a, more or less, growling tone, 'I ask, are thou my Master?'

'Master?' Aragorn repeated softly as he watched the knight closely before a sharp pain on his hand distracted him and he saw, in slight astonishment, a crest similar to Arwen's Evenstar pendant was traced upon his hand in blood red.

'Servant Berserker, upon your summoning, I have come forth,' said the dark knight when he saw the crest on the ranger's hand. 'From here on my blade rests in your hands, and your fate rests in my hands. Contract completed.'

At that, the dark knight (_Berserker_, Aragorn reminded himself mentally) turned his attention to the advancing Black Riders. Berserker did not waste his time and charged head to his attackers. He, with one hand, crushed the gauntlet of one of the riders' hand that was holding a sword in to nothing more than a piece of junk and took hold the weapon.

The Dúnedain thought the Morgul Blade would be reduced to dust when Berserker got ahold of it, but instead of turning into dust, the blade remained and became darker with red veins covered the sword completely.

In an instant, Berserker, with a single swing of the sword he had taken, desimated all of his three enemies at the same time.

_He's strong, very strong._ Aragorn thought as he stood up from his spot, wondering what kind of being could this Berserker could be and he prayed to Valar that this knight whouldn't act like his name and gone berserker on him or the hobbits or anyone.

For now, the ranger would ignored what had happened in a few minutes short and turned his attention back to the halflings and especially on Frodo who looked like he had caught a cold out of the blue, but Aragorn knew better than that; Frodo was stabbed by a Morgul Blade and if they didn't get to Rivendell anytime soon, Frodo would be turned into Nazgûl.

Aragorn heard Sam asked if Frodo would be alright, he hastily replied, 'He's not going to last long. He needs elvish medicine.'

The ranger quickly picked the wounded hobbit up in his arms and ran, followed by the three fearful hobbits who were sending a look of fear and distrust to the black knight who was following them closely**.**

Aragorn knew he shouldn't immediately placed his trust to a stranger who had appeared out of nowhere, but at this moment, he was rather glad that Berserket was with him, instead of being against him, Valar only knew what the knight was capable of. Questions and answers would had to wait for now, at least until Frodo was safe from being turned into one of Sauron's minions and they were in Rivendell where his foster-father, Lord Elrond, would be able to give them some protections from the dark lord's evil force.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer - I don't own the Fate series or Lord of the Rings characters.**

* * *

><p><strong>Servant Rider<strong>

Boromir was not a happy man today, not only did he lost his horse, he still got miles and miles to get to Rivendale for the secret council about Isildur's Bane. Now, the Captain of Gondor was facing a small group of about five orcs and he was tired and angry.

_Curse you Sauron!_ Boromir thought angrily, not even caring that he shouldn't think about the dark lord who was currently in Mordor, waiting for the time when Gondor would be at its weakest and turned his beloved city into nothing but a barren wasteland like the land of Mordor. Boromir had faith in his brother Faramir's leardership and his skills as a soldier, but he was more worried that Osgiliath, the one ruined city that stood between Mordor's force and his beloved city, Minas Tirith, would be defenceless because his father who was the steward of Gondor would refused to sent any reinforcement to Faramir because of his dislike to his younger son.

This was the reason why he must obtain the Isildur' Bane, he believed greatly that it had the power to protect his proud country. Gondor needed power more than ever now that the dark lord had once again threatened to take over all the Free People of Middle-Earth.

After he had killed the five orcs, he slowly made his way to the general direction where Rivendell should, since his map was with the horse which said horse had ran away from him when he was fighting against the orcs, he was pretty much lost.

Boromir continued to head for the mountains he saw and hoped that he would find a village of some sort where he could get some supplies and a new horse to get to Rivendell before he finally succumbed to his wounds. They might be small injuries, but he was still losing blood.

The captain of Gondor continued his march until he was too tired to move his feet and fell down to the ground. Deciding that since he could barely even move his body, he closed his eyes and hoped he could still opened them later. The only thing he thought he saw was a bright red light.

* * *

><p>When Boromir opened his eyes after he was sleeping who knew how long, he was not in the middle of the field where he had lost consciousness, but he was now in someone's bed, in someone's house and in who knew where this someone lived.<p>

_At least it's not the orcs who found me._ Boromir thought wryly as he sat up on his bed and examined the bandages over his body for a second before he was distracted by a loud laugh coming from outside. The Gondornian quickly pulled his shirt on and went outside to see what caused the loud commotion.

The scene Boromir saw made him questioned if he was perhaps dreaming. In the middle of the crowd of villagers sat a giant man who was drinking ale and laughing with the villagers, despite his features being foreign, with the wild red hair and tanned skin, the villagers didn't seemed the least afraid of this man in a dark time like this.

'Ah you are finally awake!' the stranger said when he spotted him and stood up. Boromir let out a small gasp when the stranger was even taller than any of the villagers, he was practically a giant! 'I thought I'll have to finish all the ale before you wake up! Ha! Ha! Ha!'

The Gondornian was not sure if he should laugh or not, this stranger's laugh was very contagious as all the villagers started laughing with him. Ignoring all the laughter, Boromir asked, 'Who are you?'

'Me?' the stranger repeated, almost like he was dying to wait for someone to ask him that, then he his arms out wide and stretched out to the sky.

'My name is Iskandar, the King of Conquerors! In this Grail War, I am of the class Rider,' the giant stranger shouted loudly as if he wanted the whole Middle-Earth to know his name. 'Though as a Servant in this Grail War, I am often called as Rider instead of my true name.'

Boromir felt a migraine was coming up as he reached up to massage his throbbing temples, somehow this man named himself as Iskandar, but then he added that in this Grail War, whatever that was, he was instead named Rider.

'I am afraid you have mistaken something, there is a war coming, but it is not name the Grail War. In fact it wasn't even named yet,' Boromir whispered in a hush tone, for he did not want to frighten or worry any of the villagers.

Iskandar let out a long sigh as he rubbed the back of his head while muttering lowly, 'Seriously, another one as clueless and as much of a idiot as Waver? Why do I always seem to get Masters who are too serious and knows almost next to thing about enjoying life?'

The Gondornian was about to retort... only he hissed in pain when he felt the wound on his sword arm had opened. He was about to curse, but when he saw what was over his hand his words were stuck in his throat. There on his hand was a bloody symbol of his great country, the representation of the white tree, the crown of the king and its six stars.

'What... what... what...' Boromir stuttered as he tried to comprehend how his hand got marked and he couldn't remember anything, nor the pain made from this mark.

'Those are Command Seals,' a Rider said, pulling Boromir back to his reality and made him focus more on the giant being in front of him. 'Huh, might as well as finish the contract.' Rider cleared his throat loudly. 'Are thou my Master?'

'What?' Boromir shouted loudly, being more confused than ever and he hated not knowing things.

'I'll take that as a yes,' Iskandar muttered calmly before he continued. 'Servant Rider, upon your summoning, I have come forth. From here on my blade rests in your hands and your fate rests in my hands.'

'Alright...' the man of Gondor said doubtfully. 'You said these are Command Seals.'

Boromir lifted his hand up to show the mark on his hand to Rider who answered, 'Yes, the Command Seals allow the Master three rights to absolute obedience. By giving any command with the desire for it, it will be impossible for me, a Servant, to disobey your command. Though by doing so, you will lose of one of your seals and when you lose all three, you will lose your right as Master in this war, while Servants can chose to establish a new contract with another Master if they linger in this world long enough to make one.'

'Any kind of order?' Boromir whispered as he studied the seals with new interests.

'Yes. Waver once told that he was tempted to order me to obey his every command,' Rider remarked before he burst out laughing, which made Boromir agreed with, whoever this Waver was, the idea of making Rider obey every order.

Though as a warrior, he would not stoop so low and forcefully made Rider did things not out of his freewill, still if Rider continued with his nonchalant attitude like this he would most definitely use his seals.

* * *

><p><strong>I hope everyone who read this enjoy it!<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer - I don't own Fate series nor do I own Lord of the Rings, they belong to their rightful owners.**

* * *

><p><strong>Servant Archer<strong>

Legolas was an elven prince of Mirkwood and as a prince it was his responsibility to be prepared to take on the mantle of his father, King Thranduil. Legolas was ready for this path of his. Then he was not so sure if he was worthy enough for it...

Not only did the prince and his companions lost Gollum the creature who once was in possession of the Ring, the foul beast had led them a small group of orcs in their boarder and they were trying to defeat these oppressing foes. His friends and companions were either wounded or dead. It was infuriating and Legolas fought harder to save the rest of his friends, but he was in a losing battle, still he continued to fight until the last orc was slain.

Legolas was only able to save a handful of his comrades, but for him it was not enough and, despite his father telling that he did his best. Legolas vowed he would get rid of that monster with his own hands if he ever crossed paths with it.

Now he must focus on his task. Elrond of Rivendell had sent an invitation to his Council about the fate of Middle-Earth and Legolas was appointed to attend this meeting to represent the elves from Mirkwood.

While Legolas and three other elves were traveling to Rivendell, the young prince felt unease, like something was coming and he wasn't sure whether it was good or evil. All elves had felt something descended upon Middle-Earth not long ago and whatever it was searching. He hoped it would not be an obstacle in their journey.

The elves decided to rest for the night after they finally climbed down the Misty Mountains.

Legolas was readied to sleep like everyone in the group, but he was distracted a faint sound. After trying to tune out the sound for more than an hour, Legolas gave up on getting a decent sleep and marched up toward where the sound was after warning the elf who was guarding their campsite of his little night walk.

The young elf ran across the barren plain for a while before he stopped when the sound became louder and cleared enough for him to understand. The sound was the one of a strange voice that was chanting in the Common Tongue.

_Ye first, O silver, O iron.  
>O stone of the foundation, O Archduke of the Contract.<br>Hear me in the name of our great teacher, the Archmagus Schweinorg._

Legolas felt the air around him started stirred as if the air was suddenly given life and was acting like a predatory beast.

_Let the descending winds be as a wall.  
>Let the gates in all directions be shut, rising above the crown, and let the three-forked roads to the Kingdom revolve.<br>_

The wing roared around the elf as something akin to summoning circle of sort appeared under his feet.

_Shut. Shut. Shut. Shut. Shut.  
>Five perfections for each repetition.<br>And now, let the filled sigils be annihilated in my stead!  
>Set.<em>

Legolas cursed in elvish as he felt a sharp pain on his hand and he clutched it with his other hand, trying to dull the pain while trying to understand what was exactly happening right now as bright red light was emanating from the runes and symbols.

_Let thy body rest under my dominion, let my fate rest in thy blade.  
>If thou submitteth to the call of the Holy Grail, and if thou wilt obey this mind, this reason, then thou shalt respond.<em>

Legolas started chanting some elvish protecting words, hoping it would contradict with whatever sort of spell was at worked at this instance.

_I make my oath here.  
>I am that person who is become the virtue of all Heaven.<br>I am that person who is covered with the evil of all Hades.  
>Thou seven heavens, clad in a trinity of words,<br>come past thy restraining rings, and be thou the hands that protect the balance!_

A bright flash erupted from the circle and then nothing. Legolas looked around for a moment and thought his words were able to stop the power of the symbols. The elf waited for around another minute to see if something was amiss before he left his spot and in time too, because the moment he left the ground where the circle was a moment ago, something crashed into it, causing dust to fly everywhere.

Legolas quickly pulled out his bow and notched his arrow, readied to fight whatever being that was going to come out of the dust, but he was only greeted by a rough voice that said, 'Goddamned it, I really prefer .PH's summoning system over the old fashion one! All the Masters are so incompetent and like Rin, they all summon me in Crash Mode!'

The elven prince was not sure whether to be weary or amuse of whoever's _amusing_ and _coloring_ speech, as the person stood up and dust off the rubbles over his clothes. Legolas took this opportunity to study this stranger who wore some sort of red coat and black leather vest with matching pants that looked like hard armours and metallic shoes. He also had tanned skin that reminded Legolas of the Harad people's skin, but a bit darker.

'So are you the one who summon me?' the red clad man asked rudely as he crossed his arms over his chest. 'If so, then Servant Archer at your service, Contract completed. So on, so on.'

Legolas had not the slightest idea why this man grated his nerves immensely and it was no easy task to make an elf get angry so easily, because elves were the most patient beings on Middle-Earth since they could live for eternity and had time for it. Still, the elf prince was sure that if this man made one wrong step he would not hesitated to shoot him.

'Contract?' Legolas repeated when he had calmed himself and was thinking back on what the man said.

The Servant looked readied to throw his hands in the air as he said in cynical tone, 'Great another _GENIUS_ to look after. What did I do to deserve this _UNSPEAKABLE PLEASURE_?'

Legolas was slowly counting from ten to one in his mind, trying to will himself to not react harshly and be polite, despite being in the presence of the most non-sophisticated and rude from head to toe man. Legolas had met people that were rude and unkind, but this man definitely stood on top of all of them! Who started cursing and then presented himself like a spoil prince who hated doing etiquette in front of a stranger, not to mention this stranger was a prince?!

Then the red clad man, in a bored tone, explained to the prince. 'You are chosen as a Master to participate in a war where the winner can obtain the powerful artefact known as the Holy Grail that has the ability granted a wish, any kind of desire you want and it will happen. Though in order to win and obtain it, you must face and defeat the other six Masters who also want the Grail. This is a war of life and death, so unless you win, you should prepare to die.'

'And if I don't wish to be a participant of this nonsense war or die?' Legolas asked cautiously, not know what his question would make the stranger react.

'Easy, you just let me cut off your hand with the Command Seals,' the man in red replied rather too cheerfully as he pointed at one of the elven prince hands.

Legolas looked down at where the man pointed and saw red sigils over his left hand. The sigils were placed in triangularly; the sigils had the shape of a leaf that reminded the elf of the ones from the Golden Woods of Lothlórien.

Seeing that he cared for his beloved hand greatly and he was not someone who liked the idea of being unable to use his bow, he would rather keep his hand. Legoals looked up and replied in a strained voice, 'Legolas son of Thranduil and Prince of Mirkwood. Well met...'

The red man raised an eyebrow before he replied in his same cynical tone, 'Servant of the Archer Class, Archer at your service.'

Legolas simply nodded, telling Archer to follow, before turned around and headed back to his camp. Then Archer muttered softly that was almost impossible to hear, for a man that was, but the elf caught everything he said. 'At least he didn't react like Rin and use a Command Seal to make me obey to everything he said.'

The elf kept this little piece of information in the back of his mind, knowing that it would quite useful when he needed it, especially when he decided to teach Archer, some form of etiquette and politeness.

* * *

><p><strong>Probably the worse thing in the world this chapter, but at least I write something down. I hope I come up with new characters later.<strong>

**Hope you have enjoy, if not then I am very sorry.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer - I don't own Fate series nor do I own Lord of the Rings, they belong to their rightful owners.**

* * *

><p><strong>Servant Caster and First Impression<strong>

Gandalf, one of the five Istars, known commonly as the Grey Wizard, was hoping that his friend got help as he had hoped when he whispered to the small insect. All he could do right now was to wait while Saruman was torturing him for information about Sauron's ring that was currently in the hands of one hobbit named Frodo Baggins.

Gandalf grunted slightly as he was thrown against the black stone of the tower Orthanc by Saruman's magic, but he would not say or even breath a word of who and where the One Ring was to Saruman. He would rather die than to put Frodo into greater danger.

Saruman had thrown him against the stone tower for almost an hour already and the White Wizard was slowly losing his patience. Soon Gandalf was hovering in mid-air and under his foot was the burning tunnels and fire, the sight of it was a sure death. The moment Saruman lost all of his patience, he would release the bindings and Gandalf would fall deep amidst the stones and flames.

After a moment of interrogation from Saruman, the White Wizard flung the prisoner to the wall once more. Gandalf slowly pulled himself up a bit and felt blood running down his face. Black spots started to creep into the Grey Wizard's vision.

_I am sorry Frodo. I couldn't protect you..._

_**Do not give up...**_

…

_**I must admit I never seen a soul like yours. Hmm, I see... It is your will to protect the Halfling that calls upon me.**_

_**Answer me this. Are you willing to forgo all hope to protect this Halfling? Or will you chose to fall into darkness?**_

_... I promise to look after Frodo..._

_**Then I, the great Onmyouji who have command the Shinsho, shall answer your call!**_

A summoning circle drew itself next to the bleeding Grey Wizard.

A young man with strange foreign features and bizarre clothing rose out of the circle. His clothes looked like large robes in white and blue.

The young man smiled gently at him as he spoke in a soft voice, 'I am Servant Caster. Under your call I have descent upon these lands to aid you.'

Caster knelt in front of him and placed his hand gently above Gandalf's, who hissed at both the gentle tinge of power that washed over his body and the harsh burning sensation on his hand. Three ruby marks were engraved on his hand, they looked like a staff surrounded in burning flames.

'Rise up Master,' Caster said in the same gentle tone he had used since he materialized and pulled Gandalf on his feet with a soft smile.

'Tsk. So you manage to summon a Servant.' Gandalf turned his gaze away from the mysterious youth to the White Wizard who stood with his staff pointed at them and a blast coming towards them.

Before Gandalf was even prepared to counter the spell, Caster immediately place in front of the injured wizard and took out a prayer beads. With a simple flick of his wrist, the prayer beads absorbed the attack.

'Impossible...' Saruman muttered before he let out a pain choke when Caster threw a fire spell at him.

Gandalf thought of the same thing as he watched the young man defend and counter-attack against Saruman's attack, like it was simple child's play, than one that involved high incantation spells.

'Master I do not think it wise to remain here any longer,' Caster spoke calmly, as if he did not just defeat one of the most powerful Istars with a flick of his hand, and he was still smiling.

The Grey Wizard was snapped of his stupor in a second and his face turned serious once more. 'Yes and I believe my friend is here.'

A loud screech sounded from above and both Master and Servant looked up to see a giant eagle flew around the tower. Gandalf quickly jumped over the edge and Caster did the same before they both landed on the back of the avian creature and flew away from Saruman's tower.

'What a magnificent creature you have befriended Master,' the Servant commented lightly as he laughed.

Gandalf couldn't believe how cheerful the young was. The old Maia just shook his head tiredly as Gwaihir flew passed the Misty Mountain and headed towards Imladris. He must hurry both for Frodo and the fate of Middle-Earth, now that Saruman had chosen to side with Sauron, things had changed.

Just as the sun rose over the mountains and Gwaihir landed near the gates of Rivendell, the first he heard when they got of the eagle's back the sounds of metal against metal. _Oh Valar, what is going on?_

The Grey Wizard expected some enemies of sort, but he never thought he would something like... like... like THIS!

A man, or something akin to a man, in black armour that reminded Gandalf of the Witch-King of Angmar, fighting a bowman in red coat with black armour underneath it, and the warrior was using a... a tree branch? If it is, the branch had a very twisted form.

Though Gandalf shook out of his stupor and focused on the mess they had left behind from their fight, some plants were trampled on, some trees looked like they had been tortured by orcs, and the ground and stones were broken.

As the sound of battle continued, Caster looked like he was about to join the fray, when Gandalf, having more than enough surprises and annoyance for the day, ended the battle himself, in a common way by his standard.

'SILENCE!' Gandalf shouted, an ominous aura covered the area for a moment, but it quickly vanished.

The black knight stopped immediately, but the red archer simply pointed his arrow at him.

'What madness is this?!' Gandalf yelled angrily as he approached the two fighters in angry steps, Caster followed him closely with his prayer beads held loosely in his hands.

'BERSERKER!' Aragorn yelled as he approached the dark knight.

'ARCHER!' Legolas came, and as an elf, he didn't stomp on the ground like Aragorn did.

Gandalf was taken aback by the familiarity Aragorn and Legolas had with the two strange warriors.

'Master, this is an enemy Servant,' the black knight said in a distorted and rumbling voice, but it sounded more as a growl than a speech.

'Legolas and the other elves who came with him could have gotten hurt from you using a Ringwraith's sword!' Aragorn yelled angrily, which was a great surprise to Gandalf, seeing the future King of Gondor had stopped yelling at people, something the ranger hadn't done since he had learned of his heritage. 'Also, this is Rivendell, home of the _elves_ and you nearly destroy every garden in it and probably make every able elf thinks the Enemy has entered without them noticing!'

While the black armour being's face was covered in a helmet of sort and the black mist hindered the shape of the warrior further, it was impossible to know what the man was thinking, but from the way the body moved slightly, it was clear that the warrior was anything but please with the scowl.

'He was the one, who started it,' the red knight said pointing at the sinister-looking knight, Gandalf looked at Legolas' side and saw the elf was close to the point of stabbing someone with an arrow.

'The person you tried to kill is my friend, and you keep hiding yourself in your spirit form, it is normal to anyone who suddenly sees you appearing will react that way,' Legolas said, trying to sound like he was scolding at the archer, but he sounded more like a displeased child. 'Are you trying to destroy the Last Homely House in Middle-Earth?'

The elf's voice was getting louder, but the archer in red seemed to be unimpressed by the elf's anger.

'What are you going to do next time when a Servant is going to target you?' Archer asked in a nonchalant tone. 'Try to talk to it?' Pointing at the black knight called Berserker.

Gandalf watched as one of the red sigils on Legolas' hand, which he just noticed them, glowed brightly as the elf shouted, 'You will obey my every word Servant Archer! I order you to show respect to everyone who is within Rivendell.'

'Yare, yare. Youngsters surely haven't changed much after all these years,' Caster said, rubbing the back of his head slightly, wearing a tired expression. 'They still don't have the patient. I am so glad that my grandson isn't like them.'

Gandalf would have asked the young man beside him how he could he have a grandchild when he looked like he had only seen twenty winters.

While the two archers were still arguing, Aragorn and Berserker were in a staring contest, and Gandalf and Caster were watching the scene tiredly, Elrond, the Lord of Imladris came and yelled, 'What is the meaning of this?!'

'Adar,' Aragorn greeted his adoptive father in a bow, Berserker followed the future King of Gondor, but kept his head bowed to the Lord of Rivendell.

Archer, forced by the Command Seal, bowed to Elrond, and Legolas was smirking as he greeted the lord.

Gandalf gave a nod to Elrond as he approached the black haired elf tiredly, with Caster behind him who simply gave a smile to the Elf Lord.

'Lord Elrond I bring dire news.'

While everyone in Rivendell focused on the three Servants, deep within the dark land of Mordor, a light far brighter and far more dangerous than the fires of Mount Doom shone through its stone walls, a shadowy figure rose from its kneeling position while nine others knelt down in greeting.

'Welcome back,' an ominous voice greeted the standing figure. 'Old friend.'

* * *

><p><strong>I don't know why the hell I'm continuing this story. I should probably drop it. Please give me your opinion.<strong>


End file.
